


Convenience

by Harudesuyo



Series: Horror: because humans are the scariest creatures [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Fat Shaming, M/M, No beta reader, OOC characters, Psychological Horror, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Streamer Kenma, TW Animal Abuse, TW animal cruelty, Threats, Weight Issues, au: poor college student and silver spoon company's son, kenhina established relationship, kurooken best friends, mentions oikage, tw animal death, we all hate stalkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harudesuyo/pseuds/Harudesuyo
Summary: Yaku, the 'demon' worker who guarded his post at the counter in a 24 hour convenience store during the most (ironically) inconvenient time, has a small dilemma. Someone has been following him home after his shifts. Granted, he hasn't been attacked yet, but when he tells his regular-customer turned good-friend Kenma, he gets a quirked eyebrow and a quick suggestion. "Why not ask Kuroo to go home with you? You might not get along with him well, but he's convenient to have around." Yaku cannot object, of course, because the 187 cm hunk of pure muscle AND brains is just that... convenient.
Relationships: Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou & Yaku Morisuke, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Series: Horror: because humans are the scariest creatures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982488
Comments: 29
Kudos: 79





	Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Full Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, and this is in NO WAY how I see them in the canon-verse. This plot is not canon compliant. If you are uncomfortable with stalking, threats, animal cruelty/abuse/death, manipulation, and emotional hurt then please don't read this fic (as stated in the tags there are triggering topics). This work is part of a series about how messed up humans can be - I suggest you do not read if haikyuu characters are your comfort character. Thank you.

Yaku was known to be a bit fiery, loud sometimes, but he was never over-dramatic. This was something Kenma had figured out after only a few months as friends (a relationship that somehow blossomed between the night time convenience worker and a regular gamer who only came out of his cave after streaming until 12 am). Kenma actually pockets his Nintendo switch lite in concern and focuses his full attention on the college part-time worker who’s slumped over the counter in defeat.

“You should call the police,” Kenma whispers seriously, stepping closer to ensure Yaku hears him. Kenma almost feels like he’s more concerned about this than the actual victim who, from listening to the rant, mostly feels irritation, and nothing more. 

“You think the police will do anything about it? There hasn’t been a ‘real crime’ yet! Knowing them they’ll tell me to wait until I’m dead,” Yaku retorts. He’s right, to a frustrating degree.

“Is it a crazy ex?” Kenma asks

Yaku makes a sour face, but grumbles a reply, “No." Kenma would ask for him to elaborate (DOES he have a crazy?), but he feels that might be a bit rude and intrusive.

“Any idea of who it might be then?” Kenma tries again, feeling more like the police detective he was hoping Yaku would entrust with this problem.

“If I did I would have clobbered the bastard,” Yaku grits his teeth. He straightens suddenly to the sound of the door bell chiming, but slumps to a more comfortable position again when he realizes who it is. “Same things?” He asks. A low and obnoxious chuckle follows.

“You know me so well already, yakkun!”

“Don’t call me that!”

The man, who Yaku has tentatively nicknamed Kenma’s childhood friend, sports his ever eye-caching spiky hairdo and a red windbreaker.

“What were you guys talking about? Why’s it so serious here, huh?” Kuroo asks, grabbing a pocari sweat while Yaku, because he’s a nice guy with an exceptional work ethic, picks out the tuna sandwich Kuroo always buys after his workout.

Kenma sighs and brings out his game, “It’s nothing.”

“Humor me,” Kuroo jokes, elbowing his friend who takes the enthusiasm as a cue to dig out the gaming system he had stashed away. Kuroo turns to Yaku for the story instead, unfettered by his best friend’s clear avoidance of the topic.

Yaku sighs and opens his mouth to start the story because why not? What the hell? Maybe he can even buy some of Kuroo’s pity and get a tall 187 cm giant who works out regularly and plays sports to be a bodyguard for him or something.

“Great idea!” Kenma snaps. Yaku squeaks at the sudden input that seemingly perfectly matched up with the self monologue he was having. “Huh?”

“I said, I just had a great idea. Why don’t you tell Kuroo and he can walk you home?”

It was almost scary how their minds were in sync. Yaku puts his hand up to act like he’ll politely decline at least once, but Kuroo beats him to it.

“Woah woah woah~ first of all, I have no idea where your friend lives, and second of all, no offense, but I don’t know him that personally. Yakkun may feel uncomfortable,” Kuroo briefly glances in Yaku’s direction to read his expression which is a mix of slightly peeved (how dare Kuroo turn him down!!) and somewhat relieved (maybe walking home every night with the annoyingly HOT patron and bff of his dear friend / valued customer isn’t a great idea).

Yaku growls, “you apparently know me well enough to give me a stupid nickname.”

“Yakkun~~~” Kuroo whines at the notion that his nicknames are stupid (they aren’t).

“Where do you live, Kuroo?” Yaku asks

Kuroo squints suspiciously at Yaku, “so this is about me now? I’m so confused.”

Yaku sighs. Of course trying to be cautious around this grade-A idiot wouldn’t help him in any way. If he wanted help, he had to be straightforward or else it would take a century to get a solid plan going.

“Truth is, I think I have a stalker. The walk from the subway station to my little apartment is kind of secluded and dark, but my shifts always end really late or in the early morning, so I was wondering what I could do and I think that’s why Kenma said you could walk me home or something. You know, cause two would be safer.”

Kuroo twists the bottle cap off of his sports drink and takes a swig before leaning an elbow on the counter and frowning. “I could definitely do that for you, but I just moved recently for cheap rent farther from your school so I might be in the opposite direction.”

“I live far from school too… wait, do we go to the same school?” Yaku asks, confused.

Kenma looks up from his game as the conversation drags on. Yaku thinks maybe he wants to leave and go home to his gaming pc by the look of the crinkles on his forehead. 

“No, I’m working under my father’s company, but Kenma said you were a college student and there’s like one college around here.”

If Yaku could execute a facepalm directly to his brain he would. Duh. Kenma had mentioned before that Kuroo didn’t go to school, already working despite his young age. Rich kids. He would never understand that convenience. The only ‘convenience’ he’s aware of is the particular store he guards like a demon at night from rowdy delinquents to drunk old men.

“Anyway, I live far from my school too. I take three stops east from here by bus, get on the subway for a station, and then I have to walk for another 15 minutes up the giant hill in the residential district.”

Kenma blinks. “That sounds like where Kuroo moved to recently. **** street?”

Yaku almost kneels and thanks the heavens for letting him meet his destiny, his saving grace, in Kenma and his useful (albeit annoyingly confidently attractive) friend.

“Yeah, I live in the first building.”

“I can definitely walk you home then, if you’re okay with it. I live maybe an extra 5 minutes from you.”

Yaku wordlessly hands Kuroo a pack of chewy candy, his face flaming.

“Hummm? What’s this?”

“As thanks. It’s convenient we live near each other, but you still have to go out of your way to match my schedule and come here before going home so, I… I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Kuroo grins like he just won (what exactly, Yaku isn’t sure, but he’s just thankful the tall male agreed to his, and Kenma’s, plan).

“Just candy? What about dinner?”

Yaku shoves a sandwich into Kuroo’s arm and almost flings him out of the store. “My shift ends in three hours and I definitely can’t stand you for that long so come back.”

Kuroo rubs his arm and has the audacity to make a hurt face before breaking out a lopsided grin, “so mean!! I’ll be here by 11 then.”

“10:55!” Yaku yells because he has a feeling Kuroo’s the type to make his date wait. Not that this is a date or anything, no sir, but Yaku would much rather not miss his bus and wait under the streetlamp with him any longer than he has to.

Kuroo tilts his head, “10:55 it is demon yakkun!”

“Get out of here!”

* * *

As soon as he steps out of the store Yaku’s mind short circuits and repeats one word. No. No no no no no. Absolutely not. No way in bloody hell.

“Yakkun~~” Kuroo lowers the window and tilts his head signaling for Yaku to get in. Yaku rarely even takes taxis so being taken home in a car is definitely new for him. He does wonder, for a moment, if Kuroo is so rich why did he have to live in the dingy residential district Yaku has taken refuge in… he doesn’t want to pry though, so wordlessly he allows himself to hop into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to type your address into the navi?”

Yaku nervously plays around with the touchscreen before he sits back and tells Kuroo it’s in. Kuroo nods and starts pulling out of the parked slot.

“Music?”

Yaku hums, “I don’t know,” he whispers shyly, “is that usually what people in a car do? Don’t they talk?”

Kuroo is speechless for a second before he bursts out into a laugh that could make a hyena jealous. “You’re so innocent Yakkun… we can converse if you want.”

Yaku angrily crosses his arms and kicks the floor, “A car is just more intimate than public transportation. I thought proper etiquette was to talk to each other.”

Kuroo lets his eyes fall on Yaku for a second like he’s quite a weird person, but his expression is soft. Gross. Yaku turns to stare holes out the clean glass window instead of yelling at him to keep his eyes on the road.

“There’s no such thing as car etiquette, but you’re more kind-hearted than you let others believe, aren’t you? I would like it if we talked too.” There’s a faint redness on Kuroo’s cheeks, but Yaku can’t tell if it’s the afterglow of the red street light or a blush, so calming his heart, he clears his throat.

“What should we talk about?”

Kuroo shrugs, “tell me about school?”

Yaku grips his backpack that’s laying across his lap, “there’s nothing to tell. Japanese literature and language major. I want to be a teacher. Hopefully I get to coach for volleyball too.”

Kuroo perks up at that, “volleyball? Do you like watching it? Did you play?”

Yaku swallows the lump in his throat. Usually he hates talking about it. Every time it’s mentioned it’s like ripping a band aid off and bringing the never healing scab along with it. Every time it hurts and makes his eyes start to water like the first time he felt the helplessness of pain. If it were anybody else, even Kenma, he’d decline speaking about it, but the ambience - passing city lights, busy career driven individuals tiredly swinging groceries in one hand and suitcases in another, the honking of other cars muted by the thick glass of Kuroo’s car - it made him feel safe. A small space, but it's not tight like he's choking. A little transient box that's taking him home through unfamiliar roads when he was so used to the subterranean transport system below, yet he feels like he belongs there. It's insane, that this mere acquaintance can make him feel this way. The sense of security is amplified by the fact that Kuroo himself seemed so enthusiastic, as if the idea that volleyball was important to Yaku was equally as important to Kuroo himself. It made no sense, that unbridled excitement at possibly sharing a hobby, but Kuroo had a natural air of elation around him. It was contagious. Yaku almost felt like he’d be guilty if he shut down the topic.

“I played in middle school and high school. For one year. Got injured and had to stop though. My ankle was just never the same.”

Kuroo frowns, “Oh my… I’m sorry to hear that.”

Yaku sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “nah. It’s fine. I made it worse by pushing myself in a desperate moment. I was impatient and thought if I couldn’t play like I used to right away I’d never be able to again. I just felt like everyone was forging ahead and I would have to take months to recover, lagging behind. I hated that. We’re a team, you know? We should all go together! I couldn’t stay in the same place.” As he continues in vigor, Yaku’s voice mixes with frustration and wrath. At himself, mostly, for being stupid and closing the door of opportunity that was already becoming just a sliver. A crack in the wall. “If I had gone through therapy normally, maybe I would still be playing.” Yaku whispers that last part. The last sentence, he knows, is the manifestation of his regret and recklessness. The testimony that he has now matured and understands that while time certainly doesn’t wait for anybody, it wasn't gone as quickly as youth feared - it certainly hadn't been impossible to catch. Now? All he can do is wish he had known that then. In the end, it’s nothing else (not the memories of pain or his ruined dreams) it’s the regret that stings his eyes.

“Morisuke.”

His tears dry immediately from the shock at hearing his name, soft but firm on Kuroo’s tongue.

“You don’t know that. You could have gone through therapy patiently and still be rendered unable to play. You could have injured yourself again. Kenma would kill me if he heard this analogy, but the world isn’t a video game. Choice A doesn’t lead us down the happy route or the sad route or even the right route. Don’t blame yourself.”

Yaku lets out an incredulous laugh before rolling his eyes.

“Before Kenma can kill you I will for that cheesy speech.”

“Hey! I’m trying to help--”

“I know, I know, geez, you just have to be hot and nice, don’t you?” Yaku grummbles, but Kuroo abruptly breaks too fast after seeing a yellow which seemed like he was about to just run through seconds ago.

“You think I’m hot?” Kuroo turns to Yaku, almost fully facing him.

“Keep your eyes on the damn road! You definitely heard me wrong, I said you’re hot HEADED!”

“I’m sure of what I heard,’ Kuroo deadpans, his voice serious.

“I’m sure of what I said,” Yaku counters perfectly without missing a beat.

“But I swear-”

“GO!”

The light turns green way too quickly for Kuroo’s taste, but he simply shakes his head compressing a knowing smile. “You think I’m hot,” he whispers to himself, mostly. Yaku pretends like he’s suddenly very tired of talking and closes his eyes... though, he doesn’t correct Kuroo this time around.

* * *

Maybe it was because Kuroo was the first one to tell him not to blame himself in a brutally honest and realistically harsh manner instead of filled with pity and a false sense of understanding, but because of that Yaku quickly finds himself more attracted to Kuroo than he had planned. From the get-go he told himself he was to not even call Kuroo a friend, but that went out the window right away. In essence, though his tone and words were shielded, Kuroo had told Yaku not to take himself too seriously. That was all there was to it. Who else would be able to confidently tell him, ‘well you might have still sucked’ even if he did things ‘right’? Everybody always pitied him, and to an extent he had pitied himself. Until Kuroo.

It wasn't pity. It was a good scolding that he really needed to set his life back on track. Yaku realizes that, and that’s where the problem comes in. Car rides from the store to his home became lifts to school, to work, to the movies. Movie dates extended to the arcade and extended to Yaku finally working up the nerve to ask Kuroo to come up for drinks in his apartment room.

He had fallen into such a protected and comfortable routine he almost forgot why he had needed Kuroo in the first place. Besides just being a funny guy to tease and bicker with, who fills in his lonely after-work dinners with endless chatter, easy talk about volleyball (which he realized he missed), and besides being his catharsis to self recovery after years of self-wallowing, Kuroo is also his bodyguard.

“Yakkun? Did you miss me that badly? It’s only been three minutes!”

It’s true. Yaku had just rolled his eyes and slammed the car door shut to Kuroo’s ridiculous ‘goodnight’ antics a few minutes ago. He had walked into his gloomy dark building swinging the key for his mailbox and grabbing a single envelope, thoughtlessly. He hadn’t even registered that because he had gotten up and left early for class he had already checked the mail before leaving. There was no way the mail lady would come twice. Before the realization that whoever left him that envelope wasn’t an official post office worker could formulate completely, Yaku stops at his door and drops his bags.

“K-kuroo,” Yaku’s papery thin voice whimpers into the phone and Kuroo’s already turning the car around. “Wait right there.”

* * *

Shit gets serious when Kenma stops his gaming stream early. It only happens when his boyfriend really needs him for an emergency, or Kuroo calls with Yaku clearly sobbing incoherently in the background. “I’ll be right over.”

Kenma apologizes to a hoard of understanding comments that can tell from his hardened expression something was up. Hinata stops the midnight snack he was preparing and silently questions his boyfriend with a pointed stare. Kenma wordlessly pulls on the jacket and purses his lips.

“It’s Yaku,” he sighs

“Yaku-san? Is he okay?” Hinata of course knows the older friend who practically mans the local convenience store by himself, “is it related to the stalker?”

Kenma nods, “I think so. Not even Kuroo can calm him down... it sounds like he’s crying really hard.”

Hinata grabs a scarf and hands it to his boyfriend, “hurry! Text me when you get there and be careful.”

Despite the pounding in his heart and the anxious itch in the front of his mind Kenma smiles, “thanks Sho. I’ll be sure to do that.”

Hinata, who now mirrors the serious expression Kenma has, quickly ushered him out of the house. As Kenma is hauling a taxi he gets a text from Hinata, an afterthought quickly put into words: “If Yaku-san doesn’t feel safe in his home because of that stalker, he and his cats can come over to stay with us! It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest, so don’t hesitate to offer. I know you’d want to, Kenma.” Kenma smiled at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness before pocketing the device and aggressively flailing his arm once more for a ride.

* * *

Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be any cats to take even if Yaku took up the offer. Kuroo is mulling over the note intently, his hands balled into fists while Kenma has Yaku in a tight hug.

“Shhhh, shhhh,” Kenma’s soft whispers seem to have an opposite effect as Yaku just cries into his shoulder harder. Already, Kenma’s red jumper has a dark growing puddle on the shoulder, but neither the warmth or the wetness bothers him.

“My Tama… my Kiki,” Yaku hiccups before falling into another fit of crying.

Kenma knows just how much harder this is for Yaku who has no other family in the city. His parents, divorced and with new families, have nothing to do with him while his grandparents who raised him live down in Miyagi on their farm. In a big city, alone, paying his own way through education and not even having time to hang out with fellow students because of his long shifts, Yaku only had one joy in life. Seeing his pets come tapping through the house and sliding past his legs, their tails curling up to his knees in greeting. Lately, another joy was seeing them fight Kuroo who struggled to get along with them.

“They’re evil! They hate me!!” Kuroo had joked

“Stop man-handling them! You don’t pet cats like you would a dog!” Yaku had retorted back

“This is why I think dogs are better,” Kuroo glared as Kiki bit his hand, “there’s no such thing as a ‘no pet’ zone for them!”

Yaku had tried to warn Kuroo that petting them palm down and going for their head would scare them, but did Kuroo listen? Of course not. It wasn't surprising that golden spoon prince-sama had a huge golden retriever in his YARD. Who had a yard in Tokyo, anyway? Apparently Kuroo's family. It was just one of their many properties. Yaku worries about how to get his pets to warm up to Kuroo because they'd be seeing each other a lot. The thought briefly makes him flush, but Kuroo once again tries to rub Kiki's tummy and Yaku shrieks. It was going to be a long journey.

One that wouldn't ever be completed. 

Despite his insistence that Yaku’s cats hated him, Kuroo looks distraught at the two small bodies, mangled and bloody.

He had taken Kenma aside when he first arrived and explained the situation. Kuroo had gotten a call from Yaku and immediately came back. Yaku was crouched in the hall in front of his doorway crying uncontrollably. It seemed he hadn’t opened his door yet so Kuroo curiously looked up and through the darkness of the night, he said his blood chilled over at the sight. The “two brats” he fondly supplied, too pained to say their names, were hung on the doorknob like halloween decorations. Their necks were hung on tight coils of string.

After hoisting Yaku into his arms, Kuroo quickly took him inside so he didn’t have to stare at his pets, and went about cleaning their bodies. He has them in a bag, but he promised Yaku he’d help with a burial soon.

Kenma had immediately gone and spent over an hour calming Yaku before successfully having him slump into the couch and catch some light sleep. He still sniffled and called out for his cat in between tired snores. Kenma’s heart drops and beats against the tight coils in his stomach.

“Why would they do this?” Kenma cautiously asked, being sure to whisper right by Kuroo and out of Yaku’s earshot. Right now, for the distraught cat parent, the why didn’t matter so much, but to Kenma it was important. All crimes had to have a motive, but he couldn’t see why a cowardly stalker who didn’t even have the courage to approach Yaku in the well lit store he worked in would do such a suddenly much more heinous and violent thing.

“He had this letter that was in his hand when I got here. It must have been dropped off by the person themselves. No stamp or anything.”

Kenma looks at the letter as his frown increases tenfold. This was one smart motherfucker. The message was meticulously put together one letter at a time from snippets of newspaper, magazines, or printed out. Clearly a personalized, ‘heartfelt,’ frenzy that was untraceable. No handwriting, an unaddressed envelope, and Kenma was willing to bet that even if they handed over this evidence to police forensics there wouldn’t be any prints. Not with someone this detail oriented.

“Read this to me,” Kenma pinches his nose bridge and slides the letter back towards Kuroo who looks puzzled.

“You can read though?” Kuroo is perplexed

“My head hurts,” Kenma mutters

Kuroo takes the letter and reads its contents:

**_“I love you so much Yaku-san,_ **

**_Why don’t you see that? You only ever go straight home to your cats_ **

**_You smile at them so fondly_ **

**_Do you love them?_ **

**_It’s just because you haven’t gotten around to loving me yet_ **

**_You don’t need them_ **

**_I’ll never leave you lonely so just come to me_ **

**_You don’t need anything else._ **

**_My Yaku-san, I’ll get rid of all the troublesome obstacles in our way._ **

**_I love you Yaku-san._ **

**_You’re my everything._ **

**_I’ll do anything for you._**

**_You’ll be mine soon. I know it. I feel it. I love you.”_ **

Kenma opens his eyes and makes an abrupt announcement.

“I’m taking him to my home.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Kuroo asked, concerned.

Kenma shoots him a look, “what do you mean? You’re worried about me right now?”

“First off, I’m worried about both you and Yakkun,” Kuroo corrected, looking over at the short boy piled under blankets courtesy to Kenma. “You live with Hinata, so I know it’s three people, but my apartment has security guards.”

“You’re going back to your penthouse?” Kenam asked

Kuroo shrugs, “I kinda begged my grandpa, you know he has a soft spot for me and doesn’t give a shit about what my dad says goes or doesn’t go. He got me a new penthouse.”

Kenma grumbles something about how he’d have more peace of mind being able to see and hug and protect Yaku, but he also doesn’t want to put his boyfriend in harm's way. Somehow he feels like the stalker wouldn’t put it past himself to harm anybody who seemed a little too friendly with Yaku.

“You be careful too,” Kenma slowly looks up at Kuroo and squints.

“Don’t worry about that,” Kuroo grins now, his teeth perfectly lined.

Sometimes Kenma wondered where that baseless confidence came from. Sure, he worked out and was a giant, but he wasn’t invincible or a superhero. “One day you’re gonna bite off more than you can chew,” Kenma warns, his voice low and foreboding. Kuroo easily waves the warning off and heads towards the couch to pick Yaku up.

“Doesn’t he need his clothes and stuff?” Kenma asked

“I have extra toothbrushes and stuff in the new home,” Kuroo pauses to put on his shoes and turns to Kenma, “everything’s cheaper if you buy in bulk! Plus, I think it’ll be kinda cute seeing him in my oversized clothi-”

“Enough,” Kenma pulls a disgusted face, “you and your fantasies.”

Kuroo cackles, “don’t tell me you don’t have any about Sho-kun!”

“Don’t call him that,” Kenma snaps, peeved, “and Shoyo is my boyfriend, but you and Yaku… aren’t.”

Kuroo stops short and looks down at Kenma, an eyebrow raising, “but we could be.”

Kenma sighs, “yeah yeah.. Get going.”

Kuroo nods and offers him a ride, but Kenma declines. He feels like a parent sending off a child. It was likely because Yaku crying had triggered some parental instinct he didn’t know he had, but really the strong, independent, at times potty mouth, worker who seemed so confident behind his convenience store desk suddenly sobbing into his arms really worried Kenma. He watched the light of Kuroo’s car blink as he took a turn and felt a heavy sigh leave his lips for the uptenth time that day. Kenma was always the type who didn’t feel comfortable unless he had control over things - and that was another reason he liked games over interacting with live people - this situation was no exception. “Guess I’ll do some digging,” Kenma mutters as he walks off towards the main street connecting Yaku’s neighborhood with his own.

* * *

Yaku wakes to swollen eyes that have an after-sting to them. He rubs them furiously before a familiar voice whispers to him - much deeper than what he’s used to, but familiar nonetheless.

“You can sleep more, I called your school and told them you were sick.”

Yaku looks skeptically at Kuroo, but he genuinely looks worried and props up to sit next to him. That’s when Yaku’s brain registers the whole situation.

“You were sleeping next to me.”

Kuroo sighs, “you seemed so distressed in your sleep and I was just meaning to comfort you, but I guess I was tired as well.”

Yaku lets the topic drop, then. If he thought about it he had a lot of things to be thankful for - more than he had complaints. Sure, Kuroo was annoyingly attractive, had a smart mouth, and the worst dad jokes ever. However, it was true that a man as busy and well off as himself was making time to match Yaku’s schedule, brought him over to share his house, and basically put himself on the line. Who knew how far the stalker’s wrath could go? Yaku now knows the stalker has no qualms killing living creatures. He desperately hopes his presence in Kuroo’s life wouldn't endanger the other. He doesn’t want to become a threat to others just by existing and interacting with them.

Kuroo watches Yaku’s expressions shift and reaches over to ruffle his hair, “don’t think too deeply about this, Yakkun.”

Yaku scowls, hissing. “Just because your bedhed is insufferable, doesn’t mean you can give one to me.”

Kuroo pauses and frowns before turning to look for a shirt.

Yaku moodily swings off the bed. He sometimes wishes he can shut his big fat mouth and weld it together so they’d never open again. He didn’t have a real good reason he was mean to Kuroo. It wasn’t like Kuroo hated him or anything, evident in the fact that he was offering a helping hand in such a hard time in Yaku’ life. Kuroo would tease him and call him the “demon of 7/11” but Yaku knew it wasn’t anything that serious. He could tell by the easy going stupidly handsome smiles he wore while teasing Yaku.

There is one reason Yaku’s mouth shoots out before his brain can tell him to be mannerful and kind. It’s a scary revelation that Yaku would rather not have while watching Kuroo’s back muscles ripple as a light grey shirt is going over his head and down his torso. Kuroo is better looking, taller, more fit, and more financially stable than he is while they’re the same bright age of 23. It was unfair (no, it really wasn’t), but Yaku felt smaller. He felt insignificant. Like a lost paper boat trying to stay crisp and clean and afloat on a turbulent black sea.

What was he to Kuroo? A short, average looking, broke student that was convenient to mess with? Somehow that thought pissed him off more than all of Kuroo’s successes lined up like golden star plaques in the hall of his mind. The thought that he was easily replaceable in Kuroo's life while Kuroo took more and more prominence in his seemed unjust. It wasn't Kuroo's fault, but if Yaku didn't blame him than there was only one other person to blame.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Yaku suddenly blurts out, wanting to be useful. Perhaps he just wanted to prove himself. Maybe he wanted to make amends for being snappy at Kuroo so early in the morning. Or, it was possible there was more. That he wanted to be as necessary to Kuroo as he felt Kuroo was now to him. To be integrated into a crucial part of Kuroo’s day.

“No,” Kuroo whispers, and Yaku’s heart almost plummets out of his chest cavity until Kuroo turns around and the look on his face is as soft as a baby’s plump cheeks. When Kuroo reaches out his hand Yaku almost instinctively pulls his face forward, waiting for the connection and the warmth to seep through him like it’s never done before. Contrary to what he would have thought, Kuroo’s hands are as smooth as they are slender and big. “You just had a huge loss, Yakkun. I’ll make breakfast until you’re okay.”

Yaku bites his lips as his eyebrows go up and his eyes start pooling with more tears. He had thought there was nothing left in his body to get rid of, but that just wasn’t true. As if Kuroo’s soft, warm, and gossamer carasses opened a floodgate, Yaku chokes again and grips Kuroo’s hand, holding it firmly in place by his cheek. Kuroo’s thumb runs with snot and his fingers are wet with tears, but he doesn’t pull away.

Yaku cries and cries. Cries over his stomach’s hungry protests and over Kuroo’s soft shushes.He hiccups then sniffles then cries harder than where he left off. Gripping Kuroo's arm, practically using it as a tissue, rubbing all of his disgusting fluids over Kuroo’s palm as he buries his face deeper - warmth. He wants more warmth. Comfort. He acknowledges that all along, he craved comfort. Even before this horrible incident, he had needed it direly. Yaku knows he had looked for it (and found a lot of it) in his two cats. Losing them brought a fresh wave of fear that tripled to when he first met the stalker. Yaku knows he had let his guard down because Kuroo and his car that softly played classical music as they talked about the day was like a safe haven where all the worries and stresses washed away while the world moved so busily in complex cycles beyond the window. Two cats and their soft purrs. A relaxing car ride with the world’s most ridiculously lovable laugh. Yaku’s whole world ever since he moved to Tokyo, and now half of it had been ripped violently out. Kuroo was all he had left. In the steel city where people walked too fast, talked to quickly, and stared harshly, half of his fuzzy, reassuring warmth was gone. Never coming back. Kuroo. Kuroo and his good looks, good manners, good soothing hands. Kuroo was everything and the only thing Yaku had anymore.

“I’ll make you miso soup now, okay?”

Yaku nods. His crying had calmed down significantly and Kuroo gets up. As if he had a second thought he pauses and turns, “do you want me to order something? How about we just lay here and stay for a bit.”

Yaku nods enthusiastically, almost looking like a child as his head bobs up and down quickly.

“Yeah,” that tenderness is back in Kuroo’s eyes, “let’s do that instead. I’ll order from a cafe nearby.”

* * *

As Yaku’s snarky comments decreased, Kuroo’s nickname of “oni-yakkun” decreased as well. Kenma observed the two bickering with huge cheeky grins plastered on their faces and a somehow inclusive atmosphere. Like there was a bubble surrounding them which he, nor the rest of the world for that matter, was not allowed to enter. It was all there in the sparkling eyes and shy elbow shoves.

“You two have gotten quite close,” Kenma chimes in, finally finding a chance in the ever flowing conversation and inside jokes even he’s unaware of; that in itself is rare because he can’t remember the last time Kuroo had said a joke he didn’t understand.

If it were a few weeks ago Yaku would become a sputtering mess while adamantly denying it and Kuroo would look mildly offended. Now, there’s a drop of silence before Yaku hums thoughtfully.

“Well, this idiot’s quite likeable, I’ve concluded.” He says it with a tone of confidence, like his approval is a stamp of the standard, but his slowly pinkening cheeks tell a different story.

“Thank you,” Kuroo quickly tacks on, “I quite like you as well.”

It’s practically a confession and Kenma narrows his eyes. “Well. Good luck.”

They both emit steam from the top of their heads, but don’t say anything, and if Kenma notices the way Kuroo’s hand slowly gravitates towards Yaku’s on the counter as their pinkies intertwine, he chooses not to mention it. He doesn’t want his friends to combust for real.

* * *

Yaku was just getting better from the loss of his two beloved pets when another incident hits. There’s a clear shadow over his face and his eyes are unfocused as he gets into the passenger seat, so obviously, Kuroo is very concerned.

“What happened?”

Yaku clutches the large envelope that rustles with the violent shaking of his hands. Kuroo gently kisses Yaku’s temple as he pries the thing from his iron grip.

“What the--” stacks upon stacks of thick photos spill out. Yaku going to school, Yaku getting out of Kuroo’s car, Yaku in the college cafeteria, Yaku dozing off for a few seconds during the early morning while sitting right next to the cash register, his face propped upon his arm.

“Kuroo,” Yaku solmently starts, and Kuroo immediately doesn’t like the tone, “get away from me. It’s no good if you stay close to me. I’ll take the bus and quit the convenience store and-”

“Wait-”

“I’ll put in a request to skip a semester and-”

“Yakku-”

“And I’ll… I’ll go to my grandparents! I’ll go back to Miyagi and-”

“MORISUKE.”

Yaku stops abruptly before turning to look at Kuroo, eyebrows knit and bottom lip shivering like an earthquake. “I’m scared,” his whisper is broken, cracking at the end with the strain of his neck.

“Then why are you trying to leave and do this alone?” Kuroo asks as his hands come up to their familiar place on Yaku’s two full cheeks.

“I’m scared they’ll do something h-horrible to you. I’d never forgive myself if they h-hurt you. What if they attack you? Threaten you?”

Kuroo sighs and shifts his hand to the back of Yaku’s neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You idiot… worry about yourself. If they come at you they’ll come at the both of us. Don’t do this on your own.”  
  


“I can’t let you get hu-”

“You’re not doing anything to me!” Kuroo’s arms tighten, “if this stalker comes at me that’s on them. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t tell them to come at me, it’s that person's fault. You did nothing wrong so stop trying to take some of the blame. You already have enough burdens as it is, don’t fault yourself for something that isn’t your doing.”

He’s right. He’s logical. Always the calm one in these situations. Yaku buries his nose into the crook of Kuroo’s neck and inhales the scent of strong coffee and clean laundry that clash against Kuroo’s tender skin.

“Don’t leave me for even a second then.”

“Ok,” Kuroo whispers, “ok.”  
  


* * *

“I’m sad to see you go,” Kenma frowns.

“It’s only for a little bit! Ukai-san said I can come right back to work after this stalker situation dies down. You know how he is, he’s always been super understanding.”

Kenma nods, “are you living with Kuroo?”

Yaku had practically been doing exactly that for the past few weeks with Kuroo always sleeping right where Yaku was. Either that was Kuroo’s new penthouse, his old rented apartment that was going to be empty soon, or Yaku’s place, but it felt more official now that he had no other places he really needed to be. He decided to defer a semester because it was clear the stalker had already memorized his schedule. Yaku had to take the upper hand back in his life and throw the guy off his tracks.

“I still have a few months left on the lease for the apartment, so I’m paying that, but I’m moving everything out next week… so.. Yeah, we’re going to live together.”

Kenma nods, “I’m just glad you’re not alone anymore, Yaku,” and the tone of his voice implied a lot more things than the words did. Yaku gratefully nodded. It WAS Kenma who came up with the idea and volunteered his childhood best friend. Without him Yaku shiveres to think what he’d be going through, alone, right now.

“At first I thought he was just convenient, like you said, but he’s more than that. I depend on him a lot now.”

Kenma freezes for a second before quickly pulling out his phone, “gotta log in…” he offhandedly remarks before staring at Yaku. Kenma always had a bit of an unnerving stare that, at first, caused a misunderstanding between him and Yaku. The worker had thought Kenma was silently prompting him to start a fight or hated his guts, but upon further interactions Yaku learned it was just because Kenma was very observant. He often quickly caught on to another’s feelings and motives before anyone else did. It was with Kenma’s help that Yaku caught a shoplifter and called the police proactively about a person who was going to rob the store with a knife. After those incidents Yaku quickly befriended the man and he’s oh-so-glad he did! Still, sometimes Kenma’s calculative stare points to him, like he’s reading new instructions for a game, and though Yaku had thought he was used to the look, clearly he isn’t.

“What is it?” Yaku asks, his palms starting to get damp.

Kenma quickly turns and shakes his head, “you look happy...”

Yaku beams, “is it that obvious?”

Kenma hums before walking out with his snacks.

* * *

It’s as if the stalker knew he was moving out, and he was clearly not happy about it. Yaku calls Kuroo who comes screeching down the road, the rubbers of his tires burning the asphalt.

“Yakkun!”

Yaku’s teeth are chattering violently and he’s wiping his hands vigorously up and down the expanse of his shirt, “get it off, get it off, get it off!!!”

Kuroo’s never seen Yaku this hysterical, so he immediately knows what happened.

“You came to check your own mailbox again? I told you I could do it!” Kuroo goes in for a hug, but Yaku backs up, “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Kuroo’s face falls, “Yakkun…”

“I’m dirty! I’m dirty right now… he… I opened it and…”

Kuroo looks to the ground where Yaku had dropped the envelope and all of its content. Multiple colors are splattered on the ground. Pinks, reds, yellows, flesh colored transparent balloons sealed off at the top and overflowing with a thick substance. The smell then hits Kuroo as he registered what they are. The heavy musk of a human’s fluid that’s probably been sitting in the thin rubbery condoms for days and seeped through the white envelope as Yaku opened it.

“Oh, Yaku,” Kuroo slowly reached out his hand, palm up not to scare the shivering individual. “I’ll call my butler. Let’s go get you cleaned up. Promise, I’ll take a shower with you and we’ll be stalker-germ free.” Kuroo didn’t care that there was no such thing and that logically it didn’t make sense. Whereas he was always cold and rational when dealing with others, none of that applied with Yaku. Whatever it was to comfort him, appease him, make him happy, Kuroo would do it. Pride, ego, intelligence - none of that mattered. Nothing was more important than Yaku being okay.

“I touched it,” Yaku croaked.

“You are you,” Kuroo argued, “we’ll wipe away the germs and I’ll hug you tight, so let’s go. Take my hand?”

When Yaku does, he notices that the tremors in his hands have calmed considerably. He had just felt like a drowning child with his head barely above the foaming white waves, sticky tentacles of panic curling around him and dragging him under, sealing off his lungs, filling him like molasses hardening in his system. Kuroo’s hand was like a lifeline. Yaku grips it all the way home like it was the only thing that was keeping him anchored. Like it was the only thing that mattered anymore.

* * *

Yaku’s not used to the pampered life. He had to grow up way too soon. He tells Kuroo this, one night, slightly ~~very~~ drunk on wine and complaining about his woos.

“I heard my parents fighting because of me, you know. Is that a thing parents should do?! I was only 9 and I could hear them. 'You take the brat, my new husband has kids' vs 'no you take him, you can’t even be called a mother if you don’t! My new wife doesn’t have kids. She won’t know what to do with him',” Yaku slams his fist on the table, “am I an object?!”

Kuroo shakes his head, “of course not, Yakkun.” He’s had significantly less wine and also held his alcohol better, evidently.

“I’m glad my grandparents took me in. I love them. Wonderful people…” Yaku pauses for a moment, “I could never complain to them or whine for anything, of course. We weren’t that well off and I was just thankful enough they took me in when nobody wanted me.”

Kuroo frowns at this and almost lets out a whisper that’s tugging at his heart. I want you. I want you more than anything I’ve wanted before and more than anything I’ll ever want in the future. Yaku keeps going and doesn’t give him the chance: “they’re the only ‘parents’ I really have though… do you wanna meet them someday? They’ll like you.”

Kuroo smiles, “oh will they?”

Yaku hums in acknowledgement, “yeah. Especially my grandma. Old lady is a sucker for nice faces.”

Kuroo lets out a deep chuckle before leaning closer to Yaku’s flushed face and lidded eyes heavy with the influence of their drinks, “like you?”

Yaku, if possible, turns a deeper shade of red, “s-shut up!”

Kuroo just laughs again and puts drunk (truthful) Yaku as number 13 on the mental list of things he loves about the other.

* * *

Yaku regrets ranting to Kuroo about how he was never spoiled and never loved because the other makes it his personalized mission to prove to Yaku that too much love can be an absolute menace as well. Yaku doesn’t work, he’s not required to clean the house because the cleaning ladies do, if he wants to go out Kuroo shows him the box filled with all the keys one could possibly need. “I don’t know how to drive,” Yaku deadpans, and Kuroo doesn’t even skip a beat as he tells him to call the driver.

If Yaku mentions he likes something it’s in his closet with just the perfect size, if he mentions he’s cold Kuroo immediately tumbles a blanket in the dryer for five minutes and wraps him up like a snug burrito, before Yaku’s stomach can even growl Kuroo has the chef set the table. Yaku mentions he liked a certain snack before and Kuroo stocked the pantry with all the flavors. Did Yaku like flowers? Because Kuroo would come home on random days in his full business suit - a sight for sore eyes, for sure - and a whole bouquet of flowers which Yaku could hug and bury his face into.

“Are you happy to see me or the flowers?” Kuroo would ask, finding it ridiculous that he had to be jealous of non-animate objects now.

Yaku would squish his cheeks in one hand and tiptoe to kiss his nose. “I’m happiest when I see you.”

At one point Kuroo hands Yaku a black square, one that Yaku has only ever seen in soap operas before. Kuroo tells Yaku that anything he wants, anything under the sky, could be his. Yaku asks if he can buy food. Kuroo looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Usually, people he’s offered ‘anything’ to picked houses and land and things that stayed. Yaku was muttering to himself about how he was going to get fat if he could always order food now.

“You could order food before without a card?” Kuroo counters, finding everything about him more and more endearing.

“True… I’m just,” Yaku blushes and twirls the card in his fingers. Clearly, he’s having a hard time articulating his thoughts. Another thing that would annoy Kuroo in the office if it were anybody else, but it’s Yaku, so of course he had to find it absolutely adorable. He wants to commit that hesitant lip bite and shifty eyes to his memory and pull it out to look at from time to time when he needs energy.

While Kuroo is silently engraving the image to his mind, Yaku finally continues, “I’m just eating and lazing around at home. I’ll get pudgy and lethargic and become someone useless.”

Kuroo immediately frowns, “I like that you’re getting plump! It feels so nice when I hug you~ and you could never be useless to me. You’re the reason I work so hard, so I can come home to you.”

Yaku sniffles at Kuroo’s words before turning to look out of the huge floor to ceiling windows. The sincerity must have gotten through because Yaku drops the negative topic and scoots closer to Kuroo who opens up receptively as soon as he sees Yaku move. “I’ll be sure to eat lots then, so I want lots of hugs.”

Kuroo gleefully chuckles, “yes, sir!”

* * *

“So you’re dating Kuroo-san, Yaku-san?!” Hinata’s cheerfully loud voice rings throughout the cafe and Yaku’s ears feel like they’ll burn off. Kenma, who has everybody under his control with just a gaze, always loses to his boyfriend. Yaku finds it kind of amusing: the power of love at it’s finest.

“Sho… sorry, Yaku, my boyfriend loves gossip.”

Hinata’s eyes light up, “you guys will be the latest hot couple after Great king-san and Bakeyama!”

Hinata sounds like he’s talking in code and Yaku pulls a clearly confused face.

“You see, Oikawa-san always avoided Kageyama like the plague, but that idiot doesn’t know how to give up, so he’d follow Oikawa around until he said yes!”

Yaku tenses at the phrasing and Hinata, though energetic and enthusiastic, catches onto his mistake right away. Just like his boyfriend, Hinata Shoyo is the exact opposite of his first impression. Rather than catching nothing, he catches everything around him. The little flinches and flicker gazes most people miss are exactly what he picks up on. “I’m sorry, Yaku-san. That was insensitive. Oikawa-san was totally aware that Kageyama was following him because as idiotic as he is, Tobio is a good guy. He’d always yell at Oikawa-san to catch his attention before trailing along, it’s nothing like the things happening to you.”

Yaku nods, “it’s okay, Hinata. I figured if he was your friend that’s what you mean by ‘following’ I’m just a little sensitive.”

“No , no, I’m wrong! Forgive me, I knew about your situation so I should have been more detailed in my story.”

Kenma nods like he wants Yaku to forgive Hinata for an honest mistake instead of letting this slide so Yaku does, “I forgive you!”

“Thank you~ so does that mean you’ll tell me if you’re going out with him?”

“Sho-” Kenma’s voice, which is never anything but loving to Hinata goes stern, but Yaku quickly dissipates the tension. He didn’t want to watch the best couple he knew become tense around him. They were his friends. He could indulge them with some details about his love life, though he was afraid they weren’t too juicy.

“I’m not sure if we are?”

Hinata’s face fall, “whatttt?”

Yaku sheepishly sips from his milkshake, “we live together, he gave me a credit card, and he brings me flowers, and we k-kiss… sometimes," Yaku blushes before he quickly powers thorough his concerns “but he hasn’t said the words ‘be my boyfriend’ or ‘go out with me’ so I’m just… I used to think people could date without those words, but now that I’m in this situation I kinda want conformation, you know? It’d be nice to make it official?”

“Wait… Kuroo bought you flowers?”

“YOU GUYS KISS?”

Yaku groans and puts his head on the table as other paterons discreetly lean in closer to listen to the story or outright stare in his direction.

“Ahh” Hinata leans and with a goofy smile, “I think it's a match point, I think he loves you. Just a little more and he’ll be asking you to settle the game and get hitched!!”

Kenma chuckles but pats Yaku’s head, “Sho’s right. Knowing that idiot Kuroo, he probably already thinks you’re dating so he feels no need to say it. He’s definitely head over heels for you. Maybe too much so,” Kenma shivers like the notion of having to see his lovestruck best friend is disgusting.

* * *

Yaku feels much better after getting some fresh air outside of the penthouse with his two friends. They bid him farewell, Hinata jumping up and down with both hands in the air yelling good luck at him while Yaku holds the bottle of wine they gifted close. Tonight he’d take their advice and really get the answer right for himself. If Kenma said this was going to work then he was probably right. The success rate when Kenma said ANYTHING was going to work was almost 100%

Yaku gets home, sets the table, asks the chef to prepare some snacks to go with the wine, tells everybody they can go home before Kuroo gets back because he’ll do the rest (and gets some encouraging (?) pats on the back from the cleaning ladies), before he pulls open Kuroo’s closet. Okay. Here goes nothing.

* * *

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Kuroo completely disregards the wine and finger foods on the coffee table and stalks over to Yaku who’s sitting on the couch, one leg casually draped over the other, an arm is on his stomach while another is flopped next to him. Both his hands are hidden under the long strip of fabric as the shirt swallows him whole and stops at his creamy thighs.

Kuroo’s about to dive onto Yaku, but Yaku is quick. He uncrosses his legs and stick his right foot up, halting Kuroo completely. “Stop. Don’t touch me until you’ve showered.”

Kuroo’s eyes wander along the ankle, down Yaku’s leg that’s hanging in the air to stop him, and towards the bum that’s parked on his couch.

“That’s unfair,” Kuroo whines, licking his parched lips and gritting his teeth like he’s a starved animal that’s being held back from digging his canines into a feast. Yaku shrugs, smug, “is that so? Guess I’ll just have to go to sleep the-”

“I’ll hurry!” Kuroo’s ripping off his tie and fumbling to get into the bathroom. Yaku laughs, “good boy.”

* * *

“Did you even wash properly?” Yaku breathlessly questions as Kuroo’s tongue finally slips out of his mouth.

Kuroo hums, “of course, baby.”

Yaku pretends to throw up, “don’t call me that, it makes me feel like a kid.”

Kuroo chuckles but decides if he wants to keep going it’s not a good idea to tease Yaku and tell him his tantrum, more than anything, makes him seem childish. “Okay, Yakkun, but I think you secretly like it. You wanna be spoiled by me, right?” Kuroo licks Yaku’s ear before connecting his teeth to the squishy lobe making Yaku squeak.

“Your ears are sensitive,” Kuroo teases, tugging again on them.

“You’re weird,” Yaku retorts, though he grinds his hips up in frustration. He never thought Kuroo would be the patient and teasing type. Yaku surely wasn’t and this was not going to cut it for him. “Please.”

“Please what, yakkun?”

“Tetsurou,” Yaku whines, reaching up to unbutton Kuroo’s business shirt he was wearing himself. If one was in the room they could probably hear the ‘snap’ of Kuroo’s mental restraints breaking free at the sight and the sound of his first name rolling off of Yaku’s tongue.

“You are so unfair,” Kuroo growls, yanking off his belt, “so damn unfair.”

***

Yaku’s face is squished onto the pillow, both hands filled with the plushy material. Kuroo, being such a coordinated gentleman, had carried a naked Yaku to the bedroom while not missing the opportunity to kiss him like he meant business. Yaku now turns his head to look at Kuroo over his shoulder, one hand on his hip to hold him steady and another pushing two fingers inside of him relentlessly.

“K-kuroo,” Yaku whispers, “come on.” Yaku moves himself back on Kuroo’s fingers, surprising the other.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Kuroo’s voice is thick, filled with lust, but the fact that he still thought about Yaku while Yaku himself was just a cloudy, hazy, mess made his heart swell.

“It won’t,” Yaku pleads.

“Ok…” Kuroo pulls his fingers out and then grabs Yaku, turning him over, “I wanna see you thought, I wanna see your face.” Yaku turns his head shyly, but Kuroo clicks his tongue which makes him stop. “I mean it, I wanna see the person I love.”

“L-love!” Yaku squeaks, overwhelmed with a sudden gush of warmth exploding in his chest like the sparkly fizzy drinks that have taken a spin.

Kuroo smirks as he rips open a condom with his teeth when Yaku tenses. It makes him halt because this isn’t the typical ‘tenses from over-stimulation’ or ‘muscles tensing from an orgasam’ he’s used to feeling. This is an involuntary reaction capitulated by something. One thing. Fear.

“I’m sorry,” Yaku whispers, his shaky brown orbs dart to the thin package between Kuroo’s lips and then back up at him. Everything clicks and Kuroo snatches the offending material out of his mouth, tossing it down.

“No no no, don’t say that,” Kuroo whispers, leaning down to pepper Yaku’s face with soft kisses, “I’m sorry baby, I wasn’t thinking straight I-”

“It’s okay,” Yaku stutters out, his palm comes up to connect with Kuroo’s bare chest. “I just don’t really like seeing them because I remember them spilling out of the envelope. It might be troublesome and I’ll definitely ask you to clean me out and take responsibility but,” Yaku lifts his legs and grips the bottom of his two thighs with his own hands, fingertips pressing firmly into heated flesh as he practically sizzles from the heat of his embarrassing request, “if you still want to continue, you can without one.”

Kuroo, if he was being completely honest with himself, could have come from just the sight before him alone. Yaku, short hair plastered to his cute forehead with sweat, eyes like melted pools seeping into his soul and searching for release, soft legs opened, a pliable disposition like he was wishing to be fucked into absolute mush by Kuroo. It was all too much for his heart to handle.

“I’ll clean you up,” Kuroo promises, lining himself up with Yaku’s twitching hole, “but I guess I have to fill you first.”

* * *

Yaku was living his life in bliss, the envy of all his college friends who complained about Dr. Nakamura and his absolute killer biology final while Yaku rolled over with the switch still in his hand, tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to climb a cliff. “Are you even listening?” He can hear his friend sigh in frustration, so Yaku pauses the game and adjusts the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, I am… did you study for the thing?”

Sugawara chokes on his own spit, “me? Study? Ohhh my dear friend, you’ve been trapped in your castle for too long~ you’ve forgotten all about your friends.”

“Hey!” Yaku counters, tossing the gaming device away for good now, slightly offended by his friend’s jab. He was very conscious of his friends, their needs, and their moods. They were almost all that he had, anyway. The family that he gets to choose because his was clearly screwed up.

“I joke,” Sugawara immediately catches Yaku’s frown over the phone and puts his hands up in surrender, though he knows he cannot be seen anyway. “I’m going to have a drinking party with some college friends, you should know them all. Wanna come?”

Yaku makes a face. It would be nice, but on the other hand it wasn’t like he could ask Kuroo to accompany him to a place where Kuroo knew absolutely nobody and had to sit around like a waiting duck. “I don’t know…”

“Aww come on, you always had work before and now you've got a sugar dadd-”

“He is NOT a sugar daddy!” Yaku squeaks indignantly.

Sugawara laughs, much to Yaku’s chagrin, “anyway, now that you don’t work, just come have some fun!”

“I’ll ask Kuroo,” Yaku mutters.

“Woah woah woah,” Sugawara shakes his head, “is he really your daddy? Since when did the almighty Yaku-san ever ASK someone before doing something?”

Yaku wants to chuck the phone across the room but composes himself. “He worries about me if I’m out late at night. Hello? I don’t know if you remember, but there’s a stalker out and about.”

Sugawara hums, “well… yeah, I guess anybody would be worried. Be careful.”

“I will,” Yaku responds, hanging up. He said that, but if he was being honest he hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about being careful. All his mind can conjure up is the fact that he felt safe around Kuroo. In Kuroo’s car, in his arms, walking side by side with him, even at night.

“I’m so annoying… I’m getting way too dependent on him,” Yaku takes both of his hands up and slaps his plump cheeks, hoping to put some sense into his brain with the force of his hit. He doesn’t want to burden Kuroo anymore. He’s a grown man, for God’s sake, he can walk himself to a party and responsibly get himself back without asking for a ride and asking to be monitored like a child on their first chore. He had lived alone this whole time, anyway. He should be used to this. This should be the normal Yaku. Independent. Good at things, alone!

* * *

Yaku does his best not to even mention that he got a call from his friend. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to hide his plans all of a sudden, but he has a feeling that if Kuroo were to find out then despite all his refusal, Kuroo would absolutely insist on picking him up. That’s just the kind of person Kuroo was. A gentleman to the bone - even if in the flesh he had a shit eating grin and slightly condescending smirk.

It worked out perfectly because Kuroo was late on a business meeting, and Yaku left the house, slipping the penthouse cardkey into his pocket, and nervously making his way down. The security guard in the lobby greeted him kindly and even asked if he needed a car somewhere. Yaku considered it for a quick second before declining. Somehow, it felt very awkward trying to imagine himself pulling up to a local bar in an extravagant car, driven up like a celebrity or a rich prince. Definitely wasn’t him, and he didn’t need to be made fun of for the duration of the night. He hails a taxi to the location and smiles brightly upon seeing Sugawara waiting outside for him.

“Yo~ Mori!!”

“Koushi!”

“You made it! Where’s that loaded boyfriend of yours?” Sugawara squints as he makes a ‘looking out’ gesture with his hand up above his eyes. Yaku snorts, but lets it slide because of the word ‘boyfriend.’ Thou Sugawara wasn’t gay and had a massive crush on a junior in their university (just ask about Yachi-san and he’d turn bright red), he was the most understanding and accepting when Yaku had come out. For that, Yaku was eternally grateful.

“He’s not here, so let’s go and have some fun?”

“Ohhh, being a lil player already huh?” Sugawara wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he wraps an arm around Yaku’s shoulders, “alright! Let’s have some fun!!”

* * *

Yaku curses at himself when he checks the time. He had promised himself it was just going to be one beer, but one turned to two and two turned to four and then so on and so forth. When he came to, he was snoring on Sugawara who was equally wasted and leaned on their friend Daichi. 

“Morisuke! Thank goodness you’re awake at least. We let you guys sleep for about another hour, do you think you can walk?”

Yaku nodded, “yeah yeah~ it was just beer so I should be fine… I’ll make my way home.”

“Sugawara’s gone from this world,” Daichi laughs nervously, “It looks like I’ll drag him to our dorm room, sorry! Do you want me to call you a cab?”

Yaku shook his head, “I have someone I can call.”

They split ways in a hurry and Yaku pulled out his phone, ready to dial Kuroo when he stopped. Ah. That ruined the whole point of his ‘secret’ rendezvous. Stealing his resolve and pocketing the device, Yaku marches down the street in a hurry. He could just get a taxi! It wasn’t like they started late, so even though he slept off his drinks the cars hadn’t stopped commuting all together. Thankfully he hauls an empty cab and mutters his directions. The driver turns up the radio as Yaku closes his heavy eyelids. It smells slightly of smoke, probably from the driver’s clothes, and ginseng candy. An older person’s smell. Yaku wearily notes that it’s nothing like Kuroo’s warm enveloping scent that washes over his whole body as if to swaddle him in comfort. The same metal hunk that travels on a road, but different. It’s not Kuroo’s. Yaku realizes that they aren’t far, they haven’t even been separated for more than 24 hours, they’re one call away - but he misses Kuroo. To the point that he yearns for him.

2:37 A.M - the city is winding down, Yaku is slightly buzzed, the cab’s seat is rough where the leather is giving away, and a radio drowns on to old folk songs, but Yaku only wants to see one person. That’s the exact moment Yaku realizes he’s absolutely in love and could not live without Kuroo Tetsuro anymore.

* * *

Yaku almost mistakes the figure waiting on the sidewalk for Kuroo. His stature is similar (tall is really the only thing that Yaku registers first, don’t ask him why!) When the slouched figure pushes off the wall and stands however, Yaku immediately knows something’s wrong and the smile that was erupting from the inside of his chest simmers before completely cooling out.

“Yaku-san?”

Yaku backs away from the hesitant voice. It was higher than Kuroo’s, slightly scratchy like they didn’t drink enough water before speaking. “Who?”

“Yaku-san, it’s me!” The enthusiasm almost drips with desperation, and Yaku feels like he has to quickly put a name to the face or else something not-too-pleasant is going to take place. He scans the face once before looking over it twice. Slanted eyes, green in color, the pupils more oval-shaped than round are akin to a serpent. Yaku shivers before moving on to look for other distinguishing factors. Silver hair. A straight beautiful nose. This person could be a model ripped straight out of a foreign magazine.

“Who-”

“I used to come to your convenience store every day!” the man’s voice rises and Yaku panics. A name. A name for that ridiculously good looking face. A name to go with the angular jaw and long arms and even longer legs. He needed a name now. The man’s face scrunches from saddened to determined.

“LEV!” Yaku shouts, almost like a spell to dissipate the growing anxiety within him. It was a stroke of luck, really. Divine intervention practically put that name onto his tongue because nowhere did he recognize this man in his inventory of faces.

“Yes, yes!” Lev claps gleefully, his lips finally turning up into a satisfied smile, “see? You remembered me,” he whispers, “I’ve been watching you, Yaku-san.”

Yaku shivers as he carefully turns his body so Lev can’t see his hand slip into his pocket to grab his phone. If he’s learned anything from countless documentaries about animals in the wild, it’s that you didn’t look away from their gaze. They smelled fear. You couldn’t let them know, no matter how shaken you were on the inside. So, despite feeling all of his internal organs quiver like a leaf in the wind, Yaku kept his gaze steady on Lev and slowly pushed the screen, hoping he’d land on the right contact. He only had one emergency number, anyways.

“I watched you all the time at the convenience store, but I was too afraid to say hi. I lost a lot of weight you know! Before they told me I was built like a tank, but now they say that I could be a model. I’m perfect for you now, right?” Lev asks, reaching his hands out like he was ready to clutch Yaku’s hands in his own. Yaku recoils like he feels a fire, but if Lev notices, he’s not swayed by it. “I want to ask you on a date!” Lev presses on, “formally, I can ask you now. I’m good looking. Lots of people came to ask me, but I turned them all down. Because I know you love me. You loved me even when I was fat and ugly!”

Yaku stops at that. He finally recognizes the person standing before him. The customer his co-worker would jokingly call a ‘trunk’ before Yaku silenced him hurriedly. The one Yaku would slip extra gum to as a silent apology. The customer Yaku made sure to smile at, even when he was extra weary and worn out, because in this cruel society, that customer probably had it worse. The customer who always shyly smiled back.

“Wh-why would you,” Yaku starts, but Lev interrupts too excited by the high of being reunited with Yaku who was practically in hiding until now.

“I don’t care if you’re a man, you’re the only one who’s heart is pure amongst the people in this place. I decided from the first time we met that you’d be mine and I worked hard, so please. Please go out with me! We can do anything you’d like, but I promise I-”

“Baby!”

Yaku’s knees almost buckle in relief at the sound. Lev is cut short. Annoyed, he turns to see a car stop, the door opened, and a man running towards them in a clearly expensive looking suit. If anybody looked ‘model-esque’ it was the man frantically waving at Yaku to come.

“Baby~” the man, unfitting with his image, coos as he swoops Yaku into his arms and shoots a laser that could level a planet towards Lev.

The expression on Lev’s face clearly screams ‘my world is ending’ but unfortunately Yaku’s too busy smothering his face into Kuroo’s chest and asking what took him so long.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo whispers, squeezing his cheeks between large hands and checking to see that physically he is unharmed, though he doubted the man would do anything under bright street lights. “Now, may I ask why you’re cornering my boyfriend at such a late hour?”

“Boyf-” Lev sputters before balling his fists, “Yaku-san? Is this true?” He sounds betrayed, like Yaku had somehow hurt him and not the other way around. Tears threaten to fall but he barely holds them in as he steps closer, like he wants to reach out and break them apart. “You’re in love with him? Not me?”

Kuroo’s breath hitches at the question, despite the abominable timing of this all, Yaku looks up to meet Kuroo’s eyes. As if all the horror and tense muscles were turning to goo and the world was melting away, Yaku can only smile a little goofily - everything was okay now. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to try so hard to be alone either. He had someone he could call. Someone who’d come to him all open arms and loving embraces. Someone who worried about him, who wanted to do stuff for him, who cared.

“I’m sorry,” Yaku whispers, “Kuroo’s the only one for me. He’s the one I love.”

Yaku doesn’t know why Kuroo seems just as shocked by this revolution, but they’re so in the moment they don’t even hear Lev sputtering his apology until after they finish kissing.

“I’m… sorry,” Lev dejectedly apologizes, a tremor evident in his voice. Kuroo’s about to go off on him about how he scared Yaku all because of his own delusions (Yaku can tell by the incredulous look and ‘I’m about to fight’ stance Kuroo starts to get into), so he holds onto Kuroo’s arm and taps it for attention. Kuroo immediately relaxes to look at him as his fight or flight shuts off.

“I forgive you. I know you really loved me because of my kindness, and you may think your heart is broken, but you’re still young and good looking and have a bright future ahead. Please don’t do this” Yaku gestures frantically at their situation hoping to get his message across, “ever again. It was quite scary, to be frank.”

Lev brings his arms up and starts flailing them frantically sobbing about how he didn’t mean to scare Yaku as badly as he did, he was just glad to finally approach him and he thought Yaku was too.

Yaku almost feels sorry, but he can’t recuperate Lev’s feelings and fix his heart, so he stands firm. “Now you know! So, the next time you meet ‘the one’ please make sure to communicate with them instead of just watching from afar. They’ll never know unless you approach them.”

Lev nods like he truly is taking Yaku’s words to heart, and Yaku kind of has to smile. Perhaps this guy was misguided, but a good person at the core.

“Yaku-san,” Lev takes a step back, possibly to show that he can immediately follow directions. The very literal way he interprets Yaku’s words is childlike and almost cute. “Yaku-san, if we would have met earlier… If I would have asked you out when I was, you know… would you have given me a chance?”

Yaku thinks back to about a year (or was it a year and a half?) ago. He was a whole different person then and very skeptical about love. He didn’t believe it was some ‘boom’ shot through the heart at first sight, but he also couldn’t feel it for any long time friends he kept close. He figured he was just not meant for love. After all, who had he had to learn about love from? A mother who made him soup when he was sick? A father to take him fishing over long weekends and teach him about how to sweet-talk a crush? No. He had a grandpa who worked the fields and brought him dinner and a grandma who, bless her soul, had to stay in bed while he tended to her meals. Yaku didn’t know how to give love, and he wasn’t sure he could receive it right even if it was volleyed straight to him like a chance ball flying high over the net.

“No,” Yaku shook his head absolutely sure of his answer. “I don’t think I was ready then. It was nothing on you or how you looked, it was me. I wasn’t ready then to accept or look for love.”

Lev looks down at his feet sadly but nods. He understood.

“I understand… I just thought I’d ask.” There’s a long pregnant silence before Kuroo clears his throat and tightens his hold on Yaku’s shoulders. Lev nods like he’s finally understood. “I’ll leave,” Lev manages a smile before he starts taking steps backwards. He doesn’t turn, wanting to keep Yaku’s face and encouraging smile in his mind a little longer. Yaku indulges him by watching him until he goes. He hears the whisper of a “goodbye” carried by a light breeze before Lev (and all of his troubles that had plagued his days) disappear for good.

* * *

Kuroo doesn’t let Yaku live down the cheesy last minute confession. Yaku angrily claims he’ll take it back which makes Kuroo clamp up immediately, of course.

They were at the breakfast table, the very next morning after Yaku had the best sleep he’s ever had in ages, all the stress leaving his body as he fell into a nightmare-less abyss of bliss. Kuroo’s making breakfast and Yaku’s flipping through the morning channels looking for the weather when he brings in up.

“I should probably go to Ukai-san and ask for shifts again, huh?”

Kuroo stops chopping and tilts his head, “you want to work?”

Yaku nods, “I do.”

“I can afford to have my boyfriend not worry about finances,” Kuroo points out. He so casually drops the ‘boyfriend’ title that Yaku’s a mix of happy and annoyed. He doesn’t remember a formal question being dropped, but since circumstances were circumstances and there was no right answer to this thing called love, he lets it slide.

“I know you’re loaded, but I like working. I just like the idea of accomplishing something, paying for my school, being a functional member of society.”

Kuroo pouts, “but your occupation can be my official boyfriend.”

Yaku raises an eyebrow curiously, “what? You have unofficial ones?”

“Yakkun!”

Yaku laughs before bounding up to Kuroo and wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist, “Joking, love. I just need to get out and do stuff! It’s who I am!”

Kuroo juts his lips out for a kiss and Yaku obliges, feeling like he’s looking after a big whiny baby at times. “Okay. But how about you work less shifts? You have a boyfriend waiting to hug you to sleep, you know! If it were up to me I’d want you all by myself every night!”

Yaku sighs but doesn’t hate this. Being bombarded and spoiled with love. He could really get used to it, “yes, I was going to ask for reduced hours and shifts anyway, you doofus.”

Kuroo hums happily at that and pulls Yaku’s arms off, spinning him around and planting a quick kiss on his cheek, “Great! Now that’s settled, go watch something while I get breakfast!”

* * *

“It was you,” Kenma states. It’s so matter-of-fact that there’s no room for argument, yet so random that Kuroo has to put down his manga and mentally process what his childhood friend could possibly mean. He’s about to ask when Kenma interjects as if he was somehow able to follow Kuroo’s internal train of thought exactly to the right destination, “don’t act dumb. The stalker. It was you.”

Kuroo snaps the manga shut. “No. It was that Lev dude, Yaku told you what happened.”  
  


Kenma ‘tsks’ at his character dying and jabs the revive button before continuing like nothing is happening, “the following at night was Lev. The letter, the cats, the semen. It’s you.”

Kuroo silently gets up, his feet barely making noise as he leans against the wall to observe Kenma from the opposite side of the room. His friend doesn’t even flinch at the movement, completely shutting Kuroo out of his current headspace as he shoots a volley of arrows from one of his players.

“Why do you say that?” Kuroo asks, being sure to choose his words carefully and test the waters. He knew how Kenma was and the opposite was true, but at times there was a muddled grey area where they didn’t know what passed and what didn’t. It usually involved people they had closer connections with.

“Yaku said the cats hated you, which is weird. You’re usually good at tricking animals to get close, but you must have screwed up. You broke into his house and didn’t know he was a cat owner, was my most likely thought. You killed them because they hated you for being a threat.”

Kuroo laughs, “said like a true cat conousire… go on, the letter then?”

Kenma shrugs like the rest is easy, “you’re smart unlike Lev, who I found out is not that sophisticated.”

Kuroo proudly smirks as Kenma’s puzzle fits together, “the pictures?”

“You’re rich,” Kenma tosses the switch down as the screen reads victory, “you can buy anybody to take photos of anyone.”

“I could,” Kuroo agrees. Theoretically, of course.

“Why’d you do the condom thing?” Kenma asks, genuine curiosity seeping through his voice like that was the one piece that didn’t fit in the picture.

Kuroo grins manically, “he hates condoms now so we always do it raw.”

Kenma pulls a face for a split second before a thoughtful frown and nod replace it. “I guess that’s a way to skip the condom sex phase… so it was you!”

Kuroo shrugs, “I neither agree nor deny.”

“Why?” Kenma asks. Not that it mattered. He had always known Kuroo wasn’t ‘normal’ - then again, that’s why they were friends. When nobody else would play with them they had each other. Nobody understood them, but they understood each other.

Most of the time.

Kuroo looks at Kenma in a mix of disappointment and cynical judgement. It was almost like he couldn’t believe Kenma would waste his breath on such a senseless question that had one obvious answer. If someone didn’t know any better they would have thought Kenma asked what 1+1 equaled.

“Why wouldn’t I do anything to make what’s mine completely reliant on me?” Kuroo counters Kenma’s question with a question that makes the shorter male shake his head.

“You’re completely insane, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s face falls flat and he brings out the pocket knife in his hoodie, “what do you mean… Do I have to kill you? I prefer not to, ya know.”

Kenma snickers, “don’t be ridiculous and put that thing away.”

Kuroo’s face easily slides into a grin as he spins the knife, blade barely missing sinking into his palm, “Knew I could trust you. I will though," it's amazing how Kuroo's voice can change from a cheerful teasing to stern within the same breath, "If Yaku hears about this-”

“He won’t” Kenma cuts Kuroo off, “who do you think I am?”

Kuroo laughs boisterously as he walks over to plop down on the beanbag by Kenma’s bed, spreading the manga to where he was before, “that’s right. That’s what I like about you, best friend.” Kenma picks up his gaming device again. There's a few moments of ambient silence before Kuroo's defeated voice whisperes, “so… what’s the price?”

Kenma licks his lips that turn upward into a sly smile. Those are the words that he liked most in the world - “I’m doing a video soon. Let me borrow him.”

Kuroo clearly looks unhappy but huffs and nods, “he's mine though. I'm just letting you borrow him."

Kenma nods, "of course... I'll use him well and give him right back."

"You'll show me the video before uploading?" Kuroo asks, hopeful.

He gets a cold-blooded and disgusted stare from Kenma like it was a sin for him to even ask, "Hell no. If you want to view it, subscribe like everyone else."

Kuroo grumbles but pulls out his phone to finish the transaction. Kenma checks his own device and smiles as the screen lights up with a notification.

**[TetsuKR subscribed to your OnlyFans! Exclusive Buyer! Yay!]**

Kenma grins, "great. Filming's on Friday, video's out on Sunday. Thanks for the subscription, dear viewer."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how onlyfans works, clearly.


End file.
